Feeling Grateful….the “I’m Melting and It’s Only May” Edition

Right now, as I sit in my third-floor, 82.5 degree condo, I am grateful that I grew up in a house without air conditioning.

While we technically have air conditioning, it seems not to be working at tip-top shape today, the second consecutive day of 100-plus degree heat indexes here in D.C.

This doesn’t bode well for the summer, which doesn’t actually start for another 20 days. Last year, we had 69 days where the temps climbed above 90. I didn’t count how many days it hit 90 in our living room.

Hence, I’m glad to have grown up without air conditioning. My parents have broken down now and bought window units, but when we were little, we had fans, popsicles, and when it got really hot, cool sheets on the couch. Tonight is definitely going to be a cool sheet kind of night.

Other than the current reminder of global warming, the last month’s been pretty sweet:

• Freedom. No more classes. No more tuition. No more trolling for parking at 10:30 on Monday nights.
• Guilt-free consumption of Bravo and HGTV marathons.
• Bought and read Two Kisses for Maddy, a book I’d been waiting for for a long time and which I’d put off buying until the classes/tuition/parking headaches were over.
• A trip home to celebrate Julia’s shower and to see Liam, who may be bigger than me by the end of the summer.
• The Red Sox finally woke up and realized that the games they’re playing actually count.
• I managed not to make a total fool out of myself during my first pilates reformer class. At least I don’t *think* I did.
• A fantastic Larry Bird Birthday weekend, complete with gorillas, elephants, and pandas at the zoo, beers at the dive bar across the street from the guy hocking panda stuff, a fancy drink overlooking the airport, big cupcakes from the best bakery around, trick candles, grilled cheeses and Belgian beers at the party celebrating a great friend’s Larry Bird Birthday +7, a juicer with which I’m apparently supposed to make garlic juice, bottomless mimosas at brunch, laughs – lots of laughs – and love. Lots of love.

Back of Steel

Remember Tamilee Webb and her Arms/Legs/Buns of Steel series?

I am going to start my own dynasty with a series of “Back of Steel” DVDs. Don’t worry, no actual exercise is involved in developing your very own back of steel. Just follow these easy steps:

1. Develop a Type A personality. Be quick to stress out.

2. Carry a heavy shoulder bag. You’ll need to do this for 10, 15, 20 years. Ignore people who tell you not to do this.

3. Sit at a desk made for a 6 foot-tall man. This works especially well if you are a hair shy of 5’1″.

4. Work at a computer at said desk for many hours each day.

5. Fail to develop upper-body strength through weight lifting, pushups or other exercises designed to work your back, chest and arms. Concentrate instead on not developing abs, legs, or buns of steel by spending lots of money on Tamilee Webb tapes in the early and mid 1990s.

Through these five easy steps, I can now boast that I have developed my own back of steel.

I used to think that massage therapists were just trying to get me for more money when they’d exclaim in surprise at the stone-like quality of my back muscles during my infrequent massages. I didn’t realize that it isn’t normal not to be able to touch your elbows in front of your chest. I didn’t like getting corrected in gym classes about my form during tricep exercises — I’m that girl whose elbows bow out from the side of my head — but I got used to it.

Then, last summer, I got a headache that wouldn’t go away. It was, you might recall, a bit of a stressful time. Strangely, the only time the headache would go away? When I had a drink. As much as I enjoyed my drinks of the day last summer, I knew that wasn’t the healthiest habit, so off to other doctors I went. The docs were stumped; the MRI was clean.

Then I went to the physical therapist. The problem, it turned out, wasn’t in my head — at least not physically. It was a pinched nerve running through my back. So I went to physical therapy, and the headaches stayed away. Yeah, the massage therapists said things like, “You have the back of an 80-year-old woman who’s never had a massage,” and “Your back is made of stone,” but the headaches stayed away.

Then, last week, I got shooting, hot, pins and needles across my back. I thought I might have shingles, but thankfully, no — just nerves in my back being compressed by my muscles of steel. And not in a good way.

So next steps? More PT, followed by an ergonomic evaluation of my workstation, which will almost certainly reveal that I, all five feet, three-quarters of an inch of me, am ill-suited for my desk/chair/supposedly helpful footstool & keyboard tray. I will try to remember to get up from my desk every hour to do the stretches my doctor suggests, and fight against my nature to cross my legs under me while typing. I will try to keep doing the exercises my physical therapist recommends.

Maybe someday I’ll be able to touch my elbows.

If not, I’ll try to find a market for a DVD for people interested in developing a back of steel. Tamilee, eat your heart out.

Mile Marker #33

What a difference a year makes.

A year ago, I was starting my medical leave. I had a great day at the spa, followed the next day by a trip to New Orleans.

But I’ll take a weekend at home, followed by no tests/possible surgery/low-iodine diet/radiation, over the spa + New Orleans, anytime.

By their nature, birthdays are milestone events. I love, LOVE my birthday, and cancer has only made me appreciate it that much more. I am so, so happy to have made it to my Larry Bird birthday (#33), and to continue to put the last year behind me.

Last year, as you may remember, was the horrible, terrible, no good, very bad year. So January 1 was a milestone; so too was the whole month of March, which marked a year since our second miscarriage and the diagnosis of my thyca recurrence. My birthday last year was a great day, but it was tinged by the uncertainty of what was to come.

It’s an understatement to say that I am — we are — in a wholly different place than 365 days ago. Life isn’t perfect, but it is so much better than it was a year ago, and I can celebrate in one day both making it to #33 AND no longer being the longest-running graduate student in history. We have an adorable, smiley nephew who looks damn good in a Red Sox jersey, are just months away from a new sister-in-law, and have yet another family wedding less than a year from now. I have lots of time to read trashy celebrity sites and to put books on hold at the library. I even made risotto last week!

How does one celebrate marking the passage of such a year? A cap and gown feels insufficient to me. I think sightseeing in DC, followed by a steak cooked in sizzling 500-degree butter, sounds about right.

Those, and lots of smiles for the year to come. This time, I can’t wait.

Feeling Grateful…the Grad School Edition

I am happy to say that I am writing this from the other side.

Yes, I turned in my last grad school exam tonight.

Last.

As in EVER.

And I am so, so thankful that it’s over.

There’s been plenty to be grateful for in the last month: Easter at Jason, Bridget, and Abby’s; a healthy outcome for Jess’ surgery, plus a whole weekend with her and Chris; the start of a new baseball season (never mind where the Sox sit in the standings right now). I tried to keep up with my gratitude journal, but whenever I put pen to paper, I was really just looking forward to this day.

It was a long last month. Hell, who am I kidding? It has been a long 4.5 years, all the way back to those cold days in January 2007 when I walked into my first classes.

Back then, I watched in admiration as my peers seemed to be largely unaffected by the workload. They took two, even three, classes a semester and agreed that it was a lot — that they didn’t get to see their friends and families as much as they’d like — but that’s grad school, right? They were also the people who followed the schedule set out on our first day of orientation, checking the boxes each semester. They graduated on time, two years ago.

For me, grad school was more of a series of fits and starts: two classes one semester, then two semesters off, another class, another break, rinse and repeat. Along the way, there were some great classes, one professor who made up statistics problems off the top of his head (that didn’t go too well), another who spent 14 weeks talking about Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky, semester-long research papers churned out over a weekend, and lots and lots of Diet Coke. (And maybe a glass or two of wine to help the writing process along.)

I could have been a more dedicated student, and without a doubt, I could have learned a lot more from this program.

But I’ve learned enough in the last four years, and the real life lessons trumped anything I could have taken away from a microeconomics textbook. This degree didn’t come easy. Although I’m kind of disappointed that I don’t think I’ll look back on my grad school career with much fondness, I know I will look back on it with pride.

More philosophy from Indexed.

Right now, though, I am just feeling grateful. Grateful that I made it – literally and figuratively. Grateful that I got in-state tuition and tuition reimbursement, and that selling my books back last week netted me a whopping $68, enough for a couple of drinks with which to toast next weekend. Grateful that all of you were patient with me when I went AWOL for months at a time, and when I whined about stupid group projects, and when I needed good friends to remind me that I didn’t have to get through school on someone else’s schedule.

And, of course, there’s B. Gratitude doesn’t begin to explain how thankful I am to have had him here, through every class, credit, and quiz. He’s had dinner ready for me before class, wine waiting after, and hasn’t complained through all the weekends when I disappeared to the loft or the library. He told me last week that he feels like he’s graduating, too, and he’s right, because I have no idea how I could have made it through this program — and especially the last year — without him pushing me on.

So, a week from Friday, we’ll skip my graduation ceremony, and have a graduation day of our own: fun in downtown D.C., a fancy dinner, and a look ahead to happier, healthier, SCHOOL-FREE years.

I’m done!